Forget Me Not
by Choronzon
Summary: In a parallel world where magic is commonplace and traded like a commodity, Feliciano finds his name to be ironic to say the least. However, he finds a friend in Ludwig while in Berlin, but tragic circumstances separate the two. When they reunite, things have changed. War has broken out and Ludwig is not the same person that Feliciano remembered and cared for. GerIta.
1. Prologue

**Forget Me Not**

* * *

Feliciano could still remember the day he should have known his life would go back to being a living hell. After all, for him, the name Feliciano was a curse that attracted ill-fortune, as if the universe was trying to spite him. Such a tragedy was long overdue. Not that he was complaining. Each memory was painful, vivid, and nightmarish. No matter the amount of time that passed, the crimson color remained as bright as if it was painted yesterday.

His family traded in magic, specifically, crystallized magic-already compressed and ready for use. Whether it be Aether, Seithr, or Mana, they weren't choosy. It was one of the reasons why their company boomed, while many other start-up trading companies withered away. That, and their willingness to travel to the far-flung corners of Gaea to meet with their clients. Okinawa, New Delhi, Novgorod, New York. Location did not matter.

His grandfather, Romulus dealt with affairs such as travel. His parents took care of all the local transactions and organized all the paperwork. Meanwhile, him and his older brother, Lovino, helped out in whatever small way they could. Mundane housework such as dusting? Feliciano's job. Organization of the library archives? That went to Lovino, though it could take him forever.

Or at least that was how it went, according to Lovino. Feliciano wasn't so sure of his older brother's reliability if he was to be honest with himself.

Memories of such times that Lovino liked to talk about were fuzzy for Feliciano, and corrupted by his recollections of the Plague that had swept through a large portion of Europe, hitting the Mediterranean with an intensity that was only matched in the Iberian Peninsula, the British Isles, and the Scandinavian Peninsula. The burn of brandy, the searing pain of red-hot knives.

Magic was ineffective in treating it.

This of course, led to worldwide panic. Fear of Armageddon broke out. It rampaged through the populace in that horrible, yet clever way that fear moved. Countries closed off their borders. Travel to and from the regions where the Plague was most prevalent, was forbidden. The economy tumbled. Many Magic-trade companies like the Vargas's, collapsed. Whether it was due to the travel bans or the fact that several families were erased due to the disease was unclear. Either way, it didn't matter that much to the Vargas family. They managed to pull through. If only by a hairbreadth.

Feliciano, Lovino, and both their parents came down with it. Romulus was spared, as he was far away, conducting a trade in Los Angeles when the restrictions were put into place.

Agonizing days were the world alternated between hell and the Antarctic. A dizzying thirst that couldn't be quenched no matter how much water he drank. Feverish visions that were either a dream, or a hallucination. He couldn't tell.

Their parents died on the third day.

As hard as Feliciano tried, he couldn't block out those dreams. He couldn't make himself deaf to all the stories that were told afterwards.

Lovino's wrist was cut in an effort to bleed out the disease on the fifth.

Big mistake.

Though the knife was sanitized, and the wound, bandaged and cleaned, somehow, something found its way into Lovino's body and sent him into a shock-induced coma. Even after the Plague had left most of Italy, Lovino was still unconscious in a hospital bed. Eight months he remained comatose. After that, it took him two years fully recover, as an aftereffect of the shock was a case of catatonic excitement that landed him a spot in a treatment facility in Rome.

Safe to say, the doctors didn't try to bleed Feliciano.

He was only seven at the time, and so sure of the fact that he was going to die. With only primitive medicinal techniques in lieu of magic, there was no way he was going to pull through it. How could a person, who was not dead, survive hell? Living beings weren't made for residence in the underworld.

On the seventh day, he started to recover. Though the nightmare was far from over. His brother was unconscious. His parents, dead. His grandfather, on the other side of the world.

The next six months were the most miserable months in his entire life.

Sure, there was the family friend-Roderich Edelstein and his wife, Elizaveta-taking care of him. But, no matter how hard they tried, and tried they did, they were still no replacement for the family that had just been fractured.

Still, he smiled. Smiled for them, so they would believe that they were contributing something. Smiled, so he could look strong. Smiled, because he knew his parents would want him to smile. They always said he had such a beautiful smile. Smiled, because that allowed him to look at himself in the mirror while getting dressed and not give up. Smiled, because people smiled when they were happy.

And fake happiness was better than genuine misery.

He couldn't understand why, six months later, when the restrictions were lifted and Romulus came back, his grandfather looked so sad upon seeing him smile.

He couldn't understand it at all.

* * *

_Well, that concludes the short, crappy prologue of my first story. Reviews are welcome, but not required._

_Note: The picture is not mine, I merely photoshopped two images. I cannot remember the artist, but I do remember finding the images on Zerochan (The Hetalia tag on Pixiv is incredibly cluttered). So yes, no credits to me for the picture. _


	2. I

**Chapter I**

* * *

Year by Year, time passed by in an unhurried crawl. The Plague disappeared from the world. The economy recovered, hesitant at first, as if afraid that dread evil would return. Then it exploded, increasing in leaps and bounds. Lovino returned home, a little shaken, and a little angry, but better off. A riot broke out in Britain, but it was put down in the blink of an eye. Seithr and Mana, dark and elemental, killing a thousand within ten seconds. The resulting upheaval forced Romulus to do the one thing he wished not to do.

Uproot their lives and have them accompany him on all his business trips.

The Taj Mahal in Agra. The Arc De Triomphe in Paris. The Summer Palace in Beijing. They're sketched onto the pages of Feliciano's sketchbook, and locked away in his suitcase. They wait for the moment to return home so they could be framed and hung up on the walls.

His life, now recorded on drawings.

Lovino's records was the ever-increasing stack of books that sat on his bookshelf. Some collected dust, rotting away from disuse. Still, others had their pages torn and stained. Too loved for their own good.

Romulus would find himself looking up at the spangled night sky, keeping an eye out for shooting stars. Each one he spotted, accompanied by a prayer: _Please, let this end so my boys can go back to having a normal life_.

But the rumors and talk still remained, even after a thousand prayers. Swirling around on eddies of liquor breath, gruesome, vivid. It wasn't safe. Not for Romulus. Not for _any_ magic trader of note.

The Whore of Britain-Victoria of the Scarlet Rose. She was a popular topic. It was agreed that she was a wretch and a bitch. She sowed seeds of discontent into the British population, and painted the foreign magic trade companies as vile demons—creatures of unspeakable evil who would leave a trail of ash and ruined families in their wake. It ruffled more than a few feathers. The traders… Well… who enjoyed being painted as the root of all evil? And the British citizens and their sympathizers?

Rage. Terrible rage.

How unspeakably ugly.

The Plague was gone and tired of this world. But that didn't mean Fear was. It had been five years since the Plague swept through Europe, and still, the world was afraid.

* * *

When Feliciano stumbled into the ballroom of the Hotel Bastei, a ball was in full swing. It was an accident and he should've left. Still, he couldn't help but stare at the spectacle—bright gowns billowing into shimmering silk and satin gardens, gentlemen in cashmere suits of navy and charcoal, crystal champagne glasses glinting in the diamond fire of the chandeliers. There was an orchestra up on stage, playing a beautiful, yet unfamiliar tune. Also, there was a long table, dressed in linen and burdened with silver platters of food. Lovino would've hated it. Too many potatoes and rich meat stews.

"Oh, _was machen sie her_?"

Feliciano blinked, rearing his head back, then spun around to face whoever spoke to him.

Snow and cold. That was his first impression of the young man standing next to him with one eyebrow arched in an enquiring expression. He was platinum-haired, winter pale, and had eyes of the most peculiar sort: red and violet. His outfit was elegant, deep blue and edged in sable, silver, and crimson.

Though Feliciano's German was spotty at best, he understood the gist of the message: _Why are you here_?

"Oh...uh…" He struggled for their words, his heart racing as he tried to recall his lessons. No good. No good. He took a step back, sweat beads gathering on the back of his neck. Perhaps it was time to leave before he got into trouble. "Sorry," he mumbled in Italian, giving up, and took a step back.

"Wait!"

Italian.

The stranger spoke Italian.

Caught off guard, Feliciano paused, allowing the young man to grab his wrist. "Is something the matter?" he asked, looking concerned. Feliciano fidgeted and looked away, mumbling an incoherent sentence under his breath. The young man arched an eyebrow. "What is it that you're saying?"

"Where is Conference Room A?" he asked.

The young man blinked. "It's a few halls over with a big, brass plaque with the letter 'A' engraved on it. But, why?"

Feliciano looked up at the man and gave him an appreciative smile. "I'm just looking for someone, thanks."

The man nodded, his mouth quirking upwards in a smile. "Do you want me to escort you there? My father's in a meeting there as well, so I know where it is."

Feliciano's eyelids fluttered, then he shook his head. "No, I'm good though. Thanks."

The man tilted his head at a birdlike angle. "You sure? I don't want you getting lost and have something happen to you." He had a look of such genuine concern that Feliciano couldn't help but smile.

"I'll be fine, ve. A few halls over, big brass plaque, right?"

The man nodded, tugging on his collar. "Alright… then… if you're sure… good luck?" He frowned, shaking his head. "Ah, that came out wrong." He held his hands up in front of him, a nervous laugh escaping him. It was an unusual laugh, sharp like a razor edge. "I assure you, I'm not normally such a dork, but-" He broke off, shaking his head. "Anyways, if you need anything, feel free to ask me, alright?"

Feliciano nodded, waving a hand in farewell. "Ok!" He started towards the door. "Thank you, ve!"

* * *

It looked like the meeting was over.

Old men in their crisp business suits were milling about in the hallway, talking to each other in serious voices about things Feliciano couldn't understand. Their faces were grim, their posture—tense. A middle-aged man with wavy, brown hair that was streaked with gray was talking to a stern-faced blonde with eyes of blue ice.

"Grandpa!" Feliciano cried, unable to control himself. "I was wondering what happened, ve!"

Romulus jerked his head back, eyes snapping wide open, then looked down at his grandson. "Oh, Feli…" he sighed, placing a hand on the young boy's head.

The blonde looked down at Feliciano, his expression softening by just a fraction of a degree. "Is this your grandson?" he asked, folding his arms.

Romulus nodded, looking down at Feliciano.

"I didn't know you had any."

"I do," said Romulus. "Two in fact. This adorable one right here, and another one who's two years older and is about to be in a—" He glanced at Feliciano, biting his bottom lip. "...Load of trouble for letting his younger brother wander off by himself."

"What? No!" cried Feliciano. He looked up at his grandfather, his wide eyes pleading. "I just snuck out while brother was napping!"

Romulus sighed. "Well…"

"Please?" Feliciano clasped his hands together.

"You really shouldn't have come," said Romulus. He shook his head. "What if something happened to you?" His voice took on a harsh note towards the end of the question. Feliciano looked down at his brown leather boots, a pout on his face.

"Well, you shouldn't have been late, ve…"

Romulus bent down, his eyes wide. "No, no, no… Don't give me that look." He shook his head. "You do know I just want the best for you and your brother, right?" He looked back at the blonde, his expression helpless.

The man gave him a slow shake of his head. "I sympathize with you," he said. "My younger one was quite miffed at the fact that the meeting was extended for another day."

Feliciano looked up at the man, his eyebrows swept upwards in a confused arch. "You...are?"

The man dipped his head in a curt nod. "Germania Beilschmidt."

Romulus sighed and stood up, massaging his forehead. "I'm sorry, but, there's just so much happening at once. These old bones can't keep up with the young folk anymore." He tightened his tie. "Anyways, Feliciano, this is a business partner of mine—Germania Beilschmidt. I mentioned him before, but this is your first time seeing him in person."

Feliciano gave his grandfather a blank look. "When did you mention him?"

Romulus crinkled his brow. "I think I mentioned him. Trading… business...Anything?"

Feliciano shook his head. "I'm not recalling it, ve," he said.

Romulus muttered something under his breath. "Maybe I did, maybe I didn't. I can't keep up anymore." He stroked at the stubble covering his sturdy chin. "Though I could've swore I did."

"I probably forgot," said Feliciano with a smile. "It's kind of hard to keep track of all the things you talk about." He giggled. "But, anyways, we're going out for dinner, right?"

Romulus's face fell. He cleared his throat in _that _way. You know, the way your parents did right before they told you something that would result in either you crying, or you being grounded. Perhaps if you were unlucky, both.

Feliciano took a step back, shaking his head. "No," he said. "No, no! You _promised_!"

"Feli… You have to understand." Romulus held a hand out, but Feliciano backed away, pressing himself against the wall.

"Why? What is it _this _time?" Feliciano bit his bottom lip, his eyes shining as tears welled up in their corners.

"There's been a snag with the latest shipment and I'm going to have to scramble to make sure this company gets those Aetheric crystals by the deadline, and—" He broke off as the tears trickled down his grandson's flushed cheeks. "You have to understand, Feli. I _don't _want to—"

"It's alright," whispered Feliciano. "I get it. Important stuff. Grown-up stuff, right?" He let out a hiccup, then turned around and fled, running down the hall.

"Wait! Feliciano!"

* * *

Lovino was about done with his younger brother's shit.

No way.

No way in hell was he about to get in an ass heaping of trouble just because his younger brother snuck out while he was taking a nap. That little—! He told him _no_. No, because it was pointless to go looking for Romulus. No, because the meeting was probably running late again. No, because every time a meeting ran late, something was happening. And when something happened, it would be more than one side that wound up in tears.

His angry footsteps were muffled by the hallway's brocade carpet. The amber and obsidian bracelet he wore to hide the ugly scar on his left wrist flashed. He was half-tempted to use some magic to track his brother down. This hotel was stupidly huge.

Like, seriously. Why did a hotel have to be this large? Just how many rich people were there in this world? At this rate, it'd be Christmas before he would find Feliciano! The burbling of the marble fountain tampered with his concentration. The indistinct mutterings of far-away conversations ate at his nerves.

There was no way. No way.

He looked down at the bracelet. More than once he had been scolded for wasting magic. Romulus warned him that if he used up all the beads this time, he wouldn't be replenishing them. Lovino would have to make do with that cheap, clay bead bracelet Feliciano wasted twenty Euros on while in Agra.

Lovino bit the inside of his cheek.

Sure, the thought was sweet—that _was _a sizeable chunk of the money that Romulus gave them for that trip. But… it was so _ugly_.

Oh, fuck it.

He held his wrist out in front of him and took a deep breath, closing his eyes. Concentration: the first step to controlling magic. Let the power seep into you, then-

He heard sniffling.

His eyes snapped open. That sniffle...he'd know it anywhere.

"Feliciano?" he called out.

"V-ve? Brother?" Feliciano stepped out from behind a corner, looking as sad as Lovino ever saw him. His face was red with blood blush, and swollen. His russet hair, tousled; a patch of it stuck out in the back like a rooster tail. Lovino groaned.

"You idiot… you met up with grandpa, didn't you?" Lovino folded his arms, his mouth pressed into a thin line.

Feliciano gave him a wordless nod.

"Oh, you idiot," sighed Lovino. He approached his younger brother and gave him a tentative hug. "What did I tell you?"

Feliciano hiccuped. "Grand—hic—pa won't be able to—hic—take us out for dinner tonight." He rested his head against Lovino's chest.

Lovino blinked, then took a deep breath. "Of course…" he mumbled. "Of course." He patted Feliciano on the back. "Listen." He pulled away from his younger brother. "I haven't spent any of my money, yet. Why don't we go down to the hotel's restaurant tonight, and I'll get you something, capiche?"

Feliciano blinked, then nodded. "O-ok."

* * *

**Sorry for the long wait... and the shitty chapter. I tried. I really did. At first, I had all these grand plans for a 5k long chapter full of awesomeness and meeting Ludwig, but after four rewrites, I'm like "Fuck it. I tried." Hopefully, it'll get better for me as the story goes on, but... Eh... enough of the bad stuff. I want to thank YaoiFanL for her kind review! That means a lot to me! Also, thank you everyone who favorited and followed this story. Really, you're all too nice. :,D Making this sad, little newb very happy. Anyways, here's my reply to my beautiful reviewer!**

**YaoiFanL: I'm glad that my writing style agrees with you (Because I think it's utter shet at times-but-*Shot*) Also, I'm glad that you found the tragic background fitting! To be honest... I won't give you any spoilers, but that Plague's going to be important later on in the story, especially concerning the fact that magic didn't work on it.**

**Anyways, to everyone else. Be looking forward to meeting Luddykins next chapter! :DD You've already met most of the Beilschmidt family, so... prepare yourselves!**

**Hopefully my chapter won't fail next time. **

**Also, to anyone who says Romulus is a bad grandpa... I'm going to have to disagree with you on that one. He tries. He tries so hard. **

**P.S. Sorry for the OOCness. **

**Once again, I tried. **


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